


Sometimes

by elegantdalek



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, M/M, Smut, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantdalek/pseuds/elegantdalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Sam and Dean jerk off together. Sometimes Dean lets Sam suck him off, too.<br/>And sometimes you fall in love with your brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

Sometimes Sam and Dean jerk off together. It's not really a regular thing, but sometimes when dad is gone Sam does this thing where he huffs his breath a few times and awkwardly shifts his jeans and Dean's dick is hard in a second. He'll press his hand to the front of his pants, trying to relieve the pressure, trying to wait Sam out, before he gives in and calls Sam's name, beckoning him to come sit next to him. Dean will unzip his jeans and pull out his cock, red and leaking with just the anticipation of doing this with his brother, and fix his eyes on Sam's crotch until he catches sight of Sam's equally hard cock. They'll stroke their dicks, eyes on each other, rough hands desperate to move in time with each other. Dean always tries to last longer than Sam and will squeeze his balls, trying to starve off his orgasm, but it doesn't usually work. He'll come, white hot, and squeeze his eyes shut, thereby usually missing Sam shoot off. Because whenever Dean comes, Sam isn't far behind. He’ll keep his eyes locked on Dean's dick, waiting for the release, and Dean would probably feel self-conscious if he didn't do the same exact thing with Sam.

It doesn't even feel weird anymore; it's just something that they do, like order pizza on Fridays or hunt monsters during school breaks.

It's strangely fascinating, seeing someone else do what you've done so many times yourself. Obviously Dean knows that lots of people jerk off, but it's entirely different to actually watch someone jerk off, to watch the come shoot out the end of their dick, to hear their quiet moans.

Of course with Sam, Dean has the added benefit of having taught him how to jerk off. That's probably how this whole thing between them started, anyways. Sam was 12 when he worked up the courage to ask Dean how he does it.

***

"Do what, Sam?" Dean asks, mindlessly flipping through his history book. The only reason he brought it home was because Sam said he wanted to read it later. Only then Sam was quietly doing his homework and Dean felt like an asshole for not setting a better example when dad was gone on a hunt, so he opened the book, but reading about the civil war quickly turned into scanning the pages looking for the ugliest chick. The fifties were just a few pages away, hello hair spray, when Sam blurted out his question.

"How do you...jerk off?" Sam asks, quietly, and Dean almost falls out of his chair.

"Sammy," Dean says slyly, grin turning up the corner of his mouth, "Are you having trouble getting your pipes to flow?"

"Ew, Dean, gross," Sam says quickly. "It's just, you always sound like you do it better than me," and damn Sam is turning bright red.

"You've been listening to me?" Dean is kind of impressed. And totally doesn’t flush at the thought of Sam listening to him stroke his cock. He didn't think his snot-nosed little brother had it in him. "Do I get you all hot and bothered? It's okay, I know I'm pretty good," Dean tells him, but now Sam is looking down, in shame, and Dean immediately stops the teasing. "Hey," he says, quieter, reaching up to rest his hand on Sam's chest. "Sit down." Sam looks into his eyes and catches Dean's reassured look before sitting down on the couch next to him. "Do you want me to show you?" he asks, knowing the answer. Sam just nods, wordlessly, and Dean swallows hard before reaching down to unbutton his jeans, barely hesitating, because it’s Sam. He’ll do anything for the kid and Sam knows it too.  

His dick starts to harden at the familiar feeling and he unzips his pants before pulling his dick out of the top of his boxers. He lets the elastic snap back under his balls and he's never felt so exposed here with Sam's gaze glued to his cock. The fact that it’s his little brother, his fucking _brother_ watching, just makes him harder. He knows he’s messed up inside. "Well," Dean says, laughing nervously, "First I like to run my hand over the whole thing a few times." His fingers are rough on his skin but it only helps to make him fully hard. "Then I twist around the head, maybe thumb the slit a little to make-" some precome blurts out and Dean blushes. "Well, you get the picture." Talking about this is harder than he thought it would be. He settles for showing, instead, and runs his thumb against the back of his cock, intensely aware of Sam's eyes on him. Dean's heart starts to beat faster, knowing that Sam is watching and cataloging his every action, but it only makes him harder and more desperate to come. He knows coming this soon will make him look bad, but suddenly he's _right_ there and he pulls his hand away in a rush.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks.

"Nothing, nothing," Dean says quickly, and reaches back for his balls instead. "Sometimes I rub my balls, too. It feels good." He plays with them, running his fingers against the fine hairs, trying not to press too much. "Do you want to try?" Dean asks. Sam nods and for a sudden heated second Dean thinks Sam is going to reach forward and touch Dean's dick. But then he reaches for his own pants instead, and Dean lets out his breath, but almost feels a pang of regret. It quickly leaves when he catches sight of Sam's cock.

Dean's is much bigger, because Sam's only 12, but it's not bad, not at all, and it looks just as hard as Dean's. Sam looks unsure, the way he touches himself, and Dean gets impossibly harder watching his little brother.

Sam does exactly what Dean said, running his thumb over the back and squeezing around the head. Dean can’t look away. He’s never thought about looking at another dick before, but now that he is, it’s oddly fascinating. Sam’s cockhead is darker than Dean’s, almost purple, and the tip juts out further. For a minute he looks, purely from curiosity, but then he realizes that it’s _Sam’s_ dick he’s looking at, and he’s simultaneously ashamed and aroused.

“Is this right?” Sam asks, and Dean looks up, breaking his concentration. Sam’s eyes are full of innocence and Dean flushes.

“It’s good, Sammy, really good.” Dean’s almost forgotten about his own cock because he knows one or two more strokes will make him come. “Do you ever taste your come?” Sam asks, almost casually, and Dean gasps as he comes sudden and hard without touching himself.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean mutters, fingers running over his cock to milk the orgasm. It took him completely by surprise and so he managed to get come all over his shirt. He wipes some of it up with his fingers and Sam’s eyes are wide and entirely transfixed on Dean.

Dean looks back, and before he really thinks about it, sticks his come-soaked fingers in his mouth. The taste is bitter and familiar and then he’s treated to his first sight of his little brother coming. Sam’s eyes flutter shut, squeezed tight, and he twists his thumb hard around the middle of his cock.

Dean knows things have changed now, permanently, and he ought to be more concerned about it, but he’s too busy stroking his cock again to think too much about it.

***

A few days later dad has come and gone and Sam and Dean are home alone again. It’s a school night and Dean’s already in bed, listening to Sam shower down the hall. He can’t stop thinking about the other day and without meaning to, honest, he’s jerking off to the memory of Sam’s dick, pretty and red and covered in slick.

It’s almost summer and the place they’re renting has no air so it’s stifling warm in their bedroom. The only way to sleep is shirtless and blanket-less. So, predictably, Dean’s mind wanders off and only reawakens when Sam is standing is the doorway, towel around his waist, watching Dean naked on his bed with his dick out.

They haven’t talked about the other day since it happened, but to his credit Sam doesn’t look embarrassed at all. Dean, on the other hand, is red and feels caught. He was never secretive about jerking off before (and obviously not, if Sam was listening to him, god) but now he’s hyper-sensitive about it. Not to mention totally into voyeurism, if his cock has anything to say in the matter. Or maybe it’s just Sam. His mind is too hazy to think about it for very long.

Sam is still standing in the doorway, but Dean can see the front of his towel is bulged out. “Join me,” he says roughly, before thinking better of it.

Sam walks towards Dean’s bed and then drops the towel, sitting down beside Dean on the small twin-sized bed. His pretty little dick is sticking straight out and as Dean watches, he runs his fingers over the length. Dean’s traitorous balls are pulling up, aching to come, so he squeezes the base of his dick hard.

The room is loud with Dean’s sharp breaths and the sound of skin against skin.

“You’re getting better,” Dean mutters, just to say something, because the room is sticky with humidity and awkwardness and arousal and he’s going to burst.

“Thanks for teaching me,” Sam says a few seconds later.  Dean is inexplicably pleased, and then suddenly it’s just like any other night rubbing one out before bed. Sam just happens to be sitting next to him doing the same thing.

Dean’s cock is leaking steadily now, and he rubs the head, watching Sam. Dean’s older so he ought to be able to last longer, but he also started a lot earlier. So what the hell. Dean presses his fingers into his dick and slides them down slowly. He comes before they reach the base.

Sam gasps quietly next to Dean and comes into his hand a few seconds later. They both lean back against the headboard and after a minute Dean gives Sam a few tissues from the box next to his bed and they clean up silently. Sam smiles softly at Dean before standing up to get into his own bed. Dean returns the smile and feels his chest clench happily.

***

Sometimes Dean lets Sam suck him off, too.

The first time it happens is just an accident. They end up taking a shower together, because when dad finally lets them finish their morning workout, they fight about who gets to clean up first. Dean, predictably, pushes Sam into the corner of the motel room and runs into the bathroom, pulling his clothes off as he walks and jumps into the shower. But Sam is faster than Dean gives him credit for and also pushy, so he moves the shower curtain aside and steps in behind Dean.

Dean pushes Sam back because he’s scared. They’ve been secretly jacking off together for more than a year now, so it’s not like they haven’t seen each other naked before, but wet naked Sam is something Dean doesn’t think he can deal with. The past few months have seen Sam shooting up like a weed and he’s almost as tall as Dean now. His cock got the memo about the growth spurt as well and sometimes Dean’s sure he’s going to come just thinking about it. He tries to avoid dwelling on what that means.

“You’re a jerk,” Sam shouts, and pushes Dean back into the hot spray of the water. He grabs the soap and starts to lather it up on his hands. Dean snatches the soap from him, rubbing it on his chest, and Sam yelps out another senseless insult. Before Dean realizes what’s happening they are wrestling in the shower, all wet and soapy and then they’re both laughing.

But one stray shove, combined with their soapy skin, ends up with Sam on the floor of the shower. Dean’s smile freezes and he swallows hard because his cock is right in front of Sam’s face. And of course it’s hard because he’s in the shower with Sam and they were wrestling. Just looking at his brother makes his hard these days.

They stare at each other silently, Sam gazing up at Dean across the length of his body. “Sammy,” Dean pleads, although he’s not sure whether he’s pleading for it or against it, but then Sam’s hot little tongue is licking his cock and Dean moans.

After that it’s sort of a blur. Sam sucks his whole mouth around the head and Dean has to brace his hands on the sides of the shower to stop himself from fucking into Sam’s mouth. Sam’s fingers trail along the soft skin of his inner thighs and his mouth is so hot, teasing at the head with his tongue. Sam’s fingers graze the edge of his cock but don’t touch. In all the times they’ve jerked off together, they’ve never touched each other. They are sort of breaking that rule with Sam’s mouth right now, though.

Sam slides his hands back to Dean’s ass, still sucking and licking at his cock, and the shower is silent, save for the pounding of the water and the dirtyhotwrong sounds of Sam’s mouth. Then suddenly Dean is shooting off, straight into Sam’s mouth. He tries to mumble an apology but Sam is blissed out, sucking the come down his throat and Dean can’t breathe.

Sam slurps his mouth off. “You taste just like me, Dean,” he says, and that makes one more pulse shoot out, hitting the side of Sam’s face. Sam whines and grabs his own cock, jacking rapidly.

Sam is sitting awkwardly at the floor of the shower and Dean crumples beside him and reaches out with his hand. “Let me,” he says, and takes Sam’s dick in his own hands. It only takes a few strokes before Dean’s hand is splattered with Sam’s come.

They breathe heavily, looking at each other, but don’t say anything. Finally Dean stands up, grabbing the soap, and Sam picks himself up too. They wash, silently.

***

So it turns out that the first time Sam blows Dean is also the first time they break the ‘no touching each other’s dicks’ rule. Not that it was a rule exactly, just a line neither of them had been willing to cross just yet. After that things are a mess. They rent a house for a few months and almost every night Sam sneaks into Dean’s bed to suck his dick or jerk him off. Dean blows Sam sometimes too, and usually manages to make Sam come at least twice. They’re probably really lucky dad hasn’t caught them.

Dean is aware that fooling around with his brother is a bad idea, and knows he’s being a terrible brother, but every time he thinks about stopping he can’t. He knows he shouldn’t feel so strongly about his brother, but he does and he can’t make the feeling go away. So they continue to sneak into each other’s beds at night.

Dean’s careful not to make it too personal, because where would they be if that happened? He starts doing more with girls and it doesn’t matter if it makes him feel empty inside, because he knows he’s doing the right thing. Moreover, dad’s pleased. And he still has Sam at nighttime. If that was taken away he’s not sure he’d be able to survive his life anymore.

And see that right there is how Dean knows he’s totally and completely fucked. He’s falling in love with his brother and he just doesn’t _care_ how wrong that is.

***

Sometimes Sam daydreams about Dean. Actually, scratch that – by the time Sam turns 14 he spends _most_ of his time fantasizing about Dean. He sits in class, mindlessly taking notes, and thinks about wrapping his hands around Dean’s dick. During lunch he eats carrots and sucks on them, pretending they are Dean’s cock instead.

This is the first and last time Dean’s going to be in a school with him, even though he’s not going to graduate, which Sam tries to protest every day, but Dean is 18 now and never cared about school. Sam’s only in 8th grade, so he never thought he’d be at the same school as his brother, but this is one of those weird ‘high school starts at 7th grade’ schools, so they go to the same building. It’s strange. Sam is used to Dean waiting outside the building for him, but now they can walk out of school together. It’s too bad they don’t have lunch together. But every day Sam daydreams about sneaking out of class and fooling around with Dean in the empty hallways.

In chemistry he doodles Dean’s name, over and over, in his notebook. In history he makes a list of everyone in the British royal family who was conceived through incest. In geometry Sam tries to graph the curve of Dean’s legs. Logically, Sam knows he shouldn’t be obsessing over his brother, but that doesn’t stop him. Sam spends English class anagramming Dean’s name, trying to make a pretty phrase, but all he can come up with is ‘enchanted wires’ and ‘her new distance’, neither of which is particularly interesting.

They walk home to the crappy apartment together, and Sam tries to fall behind so he can look at Dean’s legs. They never talk about what they do when the lights are off but sometimes Dean grabs him out of nowhere and tackles him to the ground. Sam likes to think it’s because he needs to touch him. Sometimes Sam thinks he’ll burst if he doesn’t run his fingers along Dean’s neck or through his hair.

***

At the beginning of June dad says that they are leaving “right after your last final, son,” which is next Friday. There’s two more weeks of school after finals, but Sam won’t be there. Dean probably won’t even go to school next week for the exams. What does it matter if he’s not going to graduate anyways?

Sam sits in class and for once doesn’t pay attention, even though it’s a review, and stares out the window. He’s known all along that Dean won’t want to jerk him off at school, but it’s all he’s been thinking about lately, and it sucks suddenly knowing it’s not going to happen. He tries not to question what exactly they’re doing, because knowing the truth will probably hurt. But he feels like they’re stuck doing the same things, sneaking into beds late at night, and he wants more. He wants the thing between them to be more than a dirty little secret hidden during the day.

Sam is suddenly snapped from his reverie when his teacher asks if he’s okay. Sam’s used to this sort of question, what with the weird bruises and all the missing school and moving around, so he starts to mindlessly answer in the affirmative. But then he stops and asks if he can be excused to the bathroom. The teacher must really be concerned because she says yes, and Sam escapes into the hallway.

He walks around aimlessly, trying not to think about Dean or what class he’s in right now, when he turns the corner and sees Dean. Only Dean certainly doesn’t seen him because he’s too busy kissing, tongue deep in some cheerleader’s mouth.

Sam has enough sense to half hide himself behind the corner, but their eyes are closed so it’s probably unnecessary. The girl is pressing him against the lockers and Sam can see Dean’s lips moving smoothly.

Sam’s never kissed anyone before. Sally Picton tried to kiss him at a basketball game once in 7th grade, but he pulled away and told her no. She looked crushed, and that’s probably why everyone at school stopped talking to him, but they moved pretty soon after that, and besides, he had Dean.

More than anything Sam wants to kiss Dean. It’s the one fantasy he rarely allows himself to indulge in, because he knows how unlikely it is. It’s only during the night that Dean shows interest in Sam. All day long he’s staring at girls and chatting up girls and, apparently, making out with girls and it makes Sam sick. He knows Dean has sex with girls too, sneaks into bars and picks them up for a quickie. It makes Sam feel hurt and useless and unwanted and sometimes he thinks about stopping what he does with Dean at night, but he knows that would only make him feel even worse. Whatever Dean is willing to give to Sam he’s going to take because sometimes Sam thinks his heart is going to explode when he looks at Dean.

Sam knows he loves Dean more than just as a brother. He’s known ever since 2nd grade, when the teacher had them write about their favorite thing in the whole world. Other kids wrote about their video games and their dolls and their puppies, but Sam wrote about his big brother Dean. Sam knew he did something wrong when his teacher asked him all those funny questions and gave him a letter to give to his dad. He threw the letter in the trash during lunch and luckily they moved a few weeks later. After that Sam learned to never tell the whole story, not when it came to his broken family.

The girl moans and Sam watches her run her fingers though Dean’s hair and around his neck. The kissing was bad enough, but seeing her so intimate with Dean makes Sam want to scream. He knows he should turn around, walk back to class, and forget about what he saw, but he can’t. Dean transfixes him like nothing else.

And then Dean’s hands grip her ass and Sam can’t help it – a high pitched sound escapes his mouth. Dean’s eyes snap open and look right at him and Sam panics. He runs down the opposite hall and he can hear Dean calling after him, but he doesn’t stop.

Sam’s not really sure what he expected. Dean’s a teenage guy, after all, practically an adult, and he and Sam are _brothers_. You’re not supposed to fall in love with your brother, you’re supposed to fall in love with a hot cheerleader.

Unfortunately, Sam doesn’t put as much effort into training as Dean does, and not to mention his mind is a little rattled, so Dean catches up with him. Sam tries to shrug Dean’s hand off his shoulder, but he’s losing steam and willpower, so he allows Dean to grip his arm. “Sam, I didn’t mean for you to-“ Dean starts to say, but Sam cuts him off.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Just let me go.”

“No.” Dean loosens his grip on Sam, but doesn’t let go, and it starts to feel more like a caress. “What’s wrong, man?”

Dean’s eyes plead with Sam, those same green eyes that stare into his all the time with unreadable expressions, and he can’t help but blurt it out. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

The look in Dean’s eyes switches to shock and he lets go of Sam’s arms. “I…I don’t…” Dean looks down at his feet.

“You kissed that girl. I’ve seen you kiss tons of girls. What’s wrong with me?”

“Sammy,” Dean whispers, and Sam has to lean in to hear him. “We’re _brothers_.”

“So what about everything else we do? Aren’t we brothers then too?”

Dean looks up then, finally, and stares right into Sam’s eyes. Sam backs up to the wall behind him, instinctively, and Dean crowds up against him, mouth getting closer and closer to his own.

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, eyes darting from Dean’s eyes to his mouth and back. “We’re in the hallway.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, and finally closes the last inch between their mouths.

The kiss is soft and wonderful. Sam doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but it’s wet and _Dean_ so it doesn’t matter. At first it’s just lips, and Dean sucks on his lower lip a little, which feels amazing, but then Dean slips his tongue into Sam’s mouth and Sam can’t help but reach out for Dean.

Dean actually growls and pushes Sam further against the wall, pressing his entire body against Sam’s and rocking his hips into Sam. Dean’s cock is hard and pressed right against Sam’s and it feels so amazing Sam is afraid of shooting off right there.

But that might actually be Dean’s goal, because he grinds against Sam and continues to kiss him wet and sloppily and frantically. They’ve never done this, pressed dicks together, and even though there’s four layers of clothing between them, it’s almost too much. Dean’s hands roam the length of Sam’s body and Sam can barely stay standing without holding on to Dean’s hips.

Sam forgets that they’re in the hallway, perfectly visible if someone happens to turn a corner, and goes wild against Dean. He thrusts his hips back against Dean and squeezes his fingers into Dean’s hips. Both of Dean’s hands are in Sam’s hair now and every few seconds he breaks the kiss to mutter about how gorgeous Sam is.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam says, turning his head up, and Dean’s mouth latches onto his neck, sucking and kissing as they continue to grind against each other.

Dean’s hands suddenly drop to the bulge in Sam’s jeans and then he’s coming hard against the push of Dean’s hand. “Fuck,” Dean moans, and Sam knows Dean can feel the pulses of his cock through his pants. Sam slowly thrusts into Dean’s hand, riding the last of the waves out. He glances at Dean’s pants, and sees a wet spot.

“You came already?” Sam asks, and looks up at Dean’s face. His lips are red and wet and curl into a smile.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Sam,” Dean says softly, and before Sam can reply Dean kisses him again. It’s no less passionate than before, but the amount of love Sam can feel…it overwhelms him. Sam didn’t know Dean could be so gentle. It’s like he’s afraid of Sam snapping and leaving or something. But that’s never going to happen. The pull in his chest is too strong. Sam kisses Dean back, just as soft and lovingly and rubs his thumbs into Dean’s neck.

The bell makes them jump and separate and suddenly there are a million people in the hallway. Sam’s not sure if anyone saw them, but he really doesn’t care. His pants are sticky and gross and he has to hold his hands awkwardly over his crotch to hide the wet spot, but nothing can rip the grin off his face.

***

Sometimes, especially now that they’re older, dad leaves for weeks at a time. Sam loves it because he can sleep in bed with Dean for the entire night and wake him up with kissing and a hand job. It’s not even so much about the messing around, either. Having Dean’s arms around him in the night is something he needs so badly, deep down. It makes him feel so full inside he aches.

When dad leaves they eat take out on the floor of the kitchen, facing each other, and have a foot war. Dean’s foot is warm against Sam’s legs, and he lets Dean win because then he can crawl into Dean’s lap and kiss his neck. Dean always tastes like soap and sweat, sometimes more like one than the other, and his skin is always warm to the touch. Sam kisses Dean’s neck and ears and chin, nipping lightly, until Dean gives in and pushes Sam to the floor, kissing him hard and insistent. They kiss like they’ll never get another chance.

Usually dad’s constant presence is a curse, but it also makes their reunions so much better, snuck together for a few minutes in a fast food bathroom, or behind the Impala while dad pays for gas, or in the middle of the night, quiet and on tiptoe so dad doesn’t hear the door open.

At first, after the thing between them starts up, staying in motels is something both Sam and Dean look forward to. They almost always have to share a bed, but they can’t usually do anything, because while Dad has always been a deep sleeper, he’s also able to wake from the smallest sound. But sharing a bed inevitably means intimately occupying each other’s space, breathing each other’s air, and Sam can usually get Dean to snuggle up with him. Having Dean curled around him reminds Sam of being a little kid and feeling like Dean is the superhero who will protect Sam from everything.

But now that they’re older, dad suddenly decides they shouldn’t be sharing a bed together. “You’re brothers, for godsakes,” he’ll shout at them. “It’s not normal!” Sam used to try and talk back to dad, say he didn’t understand because he was an only child, but that only made dad madder. Now Sam nods and agrees to sleep in dad’s bed, or on the cot, if the motel is nicer than most. A few times he’s slept on the floor, curled up at the foot of Dean’s bed. Sometimes Dean tries to trade places with him, but Sam knows it’s his fault they can’t be together and won’t let him. More than once dad wakes up to find both boys asleep on the floor.

One night dad catches them trying to sneak out into the cool spring night. Dean’s hand is on the doorknob and Sam is crouched on the floor, tying his shoelaces, when dad sits up and gruffly asks Dean what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“Forgot my, uh, jacket. In the car. Sir.” Dean says, and Sam tries to lay back on the floor, out of sight of dad.

“You don’t know what could happen out there. Get it in the morning.” Dad says, no nonsense, and Sam loses all hope of kissing Dean tonight.

“But,” Dean mumbles, still lingering at the door. Sam mentally shouts at him to turn around but he doesn’t listen.

“Now.” Dad stares Dean down and finally he visibly sighs and takes his hand back from the doorknob. Dad watches until he’s back in bed before laying his head down. It’s a long time before dad’s snores fill the room and Sam’s heart can go back to beating normally.

***

In July they spend all day in the car driving though Nebraska, which Sam has a special hatred for. He’s been in all of the 48 contiguous states, multiple times each, and in his opinion Nebraska is the most boring. Most people say Kansas is boring, or North Dakota, or Maine, but Sam knows these are not people who were forced to stare out at the corn for three days in a row while they were 9 because their dad was insistent on chasing a monster back and forth across the entire godforsaken state. That was also the summer Dean thought I-spy was the best game ever. He got mad at Sam for always spying corn, but Sam thought he overreacted, because there literally wasn’t anything else out there.

Dad finally agrees to stop driving around nine and they pull into the first motel parking lot off the highway. The only stops all day were at gas stations and Sam hasn’t gotten to touch Dean in more than two days. It’s driving him crazy. More than anything he wants to share a bed with Dean, just this once, and fuck the humidity, he wants to wrap his arms around his brother and sleep like that, all tangled up together. Sam can tell Dean wants to just as badly. Ever since that day in school last year, when they kissed for the first time, Dean’s been more openly affectionate towards him. He’s not tongue-fucking Sam in the car or anything, but there are sideways glances and light brushes of his fingers. And every chance they get, they spend together. So Sam can tell that they are going to sneak out tonight.

Dad parks and walks into the office. Immediately Dean’s hand is in the backseat, searching out, and Sam grabs it, tangling their fingers together. They’re in plain view of the motel office, so they can’t do much more, but Dean’s touch is more than enough to sooth Sam for the time being.

“Once dad falls asleep, Sammy,” Dean says, and Sam squeezes Dean’s hand. “Did you see that park we passed? Let’s go there.”

“Bathroom window?” Sam asks.

“God I hope so. I haven’t gotten to touch you in forever.” Dean twists so his knees are on the seat and he’s facing Sam, blocking their faces with his body. Sam leans in, risking a quick kiss, and it’s like fire, Dean’s lips on his, and near impossible to pull back, but he hears dad thanking the office clerk so he sits back. Dean squeezes his fingers once more, a promise for later, and turns back into his seat just as dad is opening the door.

They’re staying in another dirty motel, barely indistinguishable from the last one, because all grime and beige looks the same. When Sam was a lot younger he used to try and remember each motel, each crappy apartment, because Dean said wherever they were together was home, and he was always with Dean. But now that Sam’s older he’d rather forget them. Actually he’d rather not have to experience them at all, but at least he has Dean.

Dad gets in bed right away and Sam catches Dean’s eyes, smiling in relief. There’s a grungy couch in this room, in addition to the two beds, and dad tells him to sleep there, so Sam pulls his sleeping bag open, spreading it out of the couch, while Dean goes into the bathroom. When Dean comes out with a grin on his face Sam can’t help but let out a giggle. “Go to bed, boys,” dad says, and turns the light off.

Sam waits until he hears dad snoring before going into the bathroom. Sure enough, there’s a full sized window and he easily opens the thin glass panes and slips outside. He’s supposed to go to the park and wait the ten minutes for Dean to join him, but now that he’s outside he doesn’t think he can wait that long. An owl calls off in the distance and Sam hoots back softly. It’s not too quiet for Dean to hear, though, because a minute later Dean’s face appears at the window.

“What are you doing, asshole? Dad could have heard,” Dean says, trying to sound angry, but his smile betrays him. He climbs out the window and Sam grabs him, kissing him before his feet are even on the ground. Now that they’re alone they can kiss how they’ve been longing to, and Sam pours as much love and devotion as he can into the kiss.

“Sam,” Dean pants, and they break apart. Sam’s hard already. “Let’s go to that park, okay?”

The back of the motel butts up to a scraggly looking set of trees, and Dean takes Sam’s hand in his own before running through the trees towards the park. Sam laughs loudly now that they are away from the motel. For once they’re free, running in the night under the stars and holding onto each other. Being together is enough.

They get to the park and make out under a giant oak tree. The air is just this side of cool, but touching Dean makes Sam sweat and he pulls his shirt off, grabbing for Dean’s as well, and they press their bare chests together. Dean’s body is perfect and Sam has to lick and bite it, sucking a mark into his hip where no one but Dean can see it.

Eventually they take the rest of their clothes off and thrust against one another, come pooling between their stomachs and tongues licking between their mouths.

But all too soon Dean is nudging at Sam, urging him to put his clothes back on and sneak back into the motel room. Part of Sam doesn’t want to go back. He wants to sneak away forever and live in anonymity with Dean.

The worst part is the final kiss, outside the window, that lingers well into the night, long after Sam gets back to his sleeping bag and musty couch. He stares at the Dean-sized lump in the mattress across the room and wishes things were different.

***

 “But dad, it’s _Christmas_! You have to be here!” Sam shouts, even as dad opens the door to the wind and snow. “You can’t leave!”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I wish you understood.” Dad says. He might have said something more, but the words are lost to the wind and the door slams shut.

“It’ll be okay, Sam,” Dean says quietly, next to him, always right next to him, but even Dean can’t calm Sam down right now.

“He’s gone! Why did he leave?”

Dean just shakes his head sadly. “He’s trying to protect us.”

“But he left us! Why? Why does he always leave us?” The last words are stuttered and suddenly Sam chokes out a sob.

Dean’s arms are immediately around his brother. “It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean whispers as Sam cries.

Sam hates that he’s being weak like this, crying because his dad decided to hunt down a demon instead of be with his family during Christmas. But it’s getting harder and harder for Sam to be happy. Watching the normal kids at school leaves a bitter taste in his throat.

The exception is Dean. Sometimes it feels like Dean is the only good thing in his life.

Even now, as he’s crying and feeling sorry for himself, which is totally pointless, Dean tries to cheer him up. “At least we’ll be together, right? All alone for a week. When was the last time that happened?”

That’s a good point. He and Dean haven’t had a chance to be together in a long time. Dad always seems to be hanging around. The last few months were particularly awful. Four schools in four months – that’s a new record. Sam’s surprised dad hasn’t tried to talk him into dropping out like Dean did. It’d be something he would try, that’s for sure. Maybe he’s just afraid of being around his angry teenage son all day long.

Sam surprised Dean, and himself, by suddenly pushing Dean back onto the bed and kissing him hard.

“Sam, what-“ Dean gasps.

“I think we should make the most of this opportunity, don’t you?” Sam pushes his hands under Dean’s shirt and feels his strong muscles. He leans down and pushes the shirt up all the way, reaching out to lick at Dean’s nipple. Dean audibly moans and Sam sucks with his whole mouth.

Doing this in the middle of the day, with Dean under him and moaning, gives Sam a strange thrill. And at least dad had managed to shell out for a nicer motel room than normal. The sheets could almost be considered soft.

“Fuck, Sammy, your mouth,” Dean says, between harsh breaths, and Sam can feel Dean’s dick hardening against his leg.

Sam tries to pull Dean’s shirt off and continue sucking on his nipple at the same time. It doesn’t work out too well and Dean laughs before helping Sam out. Sam takes the moment to pull his clothes off too and then they are back together, naked and kissing and it’s better than anything Sam could imagine. The fact that they have days of this to look forward to does nothing to slow Sam – he needs to see Dean come apart, right now.

Sam moves his hand down to Dean’s cock and feels it leaking under his fingers. He presses his thumb against the head and feels Dean’s fingers clench tight into his thigh. Sam leans back down to kiss Dean’s chin, letting his teeth graze the skin, and is rewarded with a cry from Dean and pulses of come coating his hand. “Yeah, Dean, that’s right,” Sam says.

“I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into you, man,” Dean pants. But a second later Dean flips Sam over to his back and encompasses his mouth over Sam’s aching dick. Sam still gets a rush of heat through his body every time Dean does this. Dean’s wide green eyes look up at him over the length of his body.

Sam tries to thrust up into Dean’s mouth, but Dean growls and presses both his hands firmly against Sam’s hip bones. Dean is insistent, mouth and tongue working hard against his cock, and watching Dean’s head bob up and down is suddenly too much and Sam comes hard against the roof of Dean’s mouth.

Dean swallows it down and peppers kisses up Sam’s chest until he reaches Sam’s mouth. Being 16 is pretty great, though, because after a few minutes of making out Sam is hard again. There’s spit all over both their faces but Sam doesn’t mind because it’s from Dean.

“We can stay in bed all day long,” Sam says, moving his hands back down Dean’s sides. “I can blow you again and again until you beg me to stop.”

“I’ll never tell you to stop.” Dean’s hands are at his dick now, stroking it even harder.

“And we can go out to eat and no one will know I’m you’re brother.” Dean turns onto his back, allowing Sam to straddle his body and thrust his dick against Dean’s stomach. “We can sit on the same side of the table and I’ll make you come just from running my hand along your thigh.” Dean moans and puts his own hands on Sam’s thighs. “And when we get outside I’ll blow you against the car, where anyone might see us.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Dean pants. His hands move up to Sam’s ass and his fingers slide just into the crack.

Suddenly all the bravado drops from Sam’s voice and he cries out. “Please, Dean, fucking _please_.” He’s been afraid to ask Dean for this, afraid he’ll say no, but right now he just doesn’t care anymore.

“You like this?” Dean says, slipping his fingers further down. The tip of his fingers touches Sam’s hole and he actually yells. “I don’t think you deserve it. You were acting like a bitch.” Somehow Sam’s talk has apparently infected Dean and now he can’t seem to stop either. It almost scares Sam, how he and Dean are pushing each other, but the prospect of what might happen propels him further. “Well,” Dean says, slowly circling his fingers around the rim, “I guess you’ve waited long enough.” Sam has completely given up all pretenses of composure and is openly moaning, shallowly fucking up against Dean’s body.

And then finally Sam feels Dean’s finger slide into his body. It’s a little strange because he’s not used to the feeling, but the fact that Dean’s finger is in his ass almost makes Sam come again. He rocks back against Dean’s hand, begging for more, and in the process feels Dean’s cock pressed up against his ass. “God, Dean, I-“ Sam says, and rubs his ass back against Dean’s dick. Dean’s finger leaves but he can’t be bothered to care because his fucking _cock_ is rubbing there instead. It’s sheer force of will keeping Sam from coming right now, and when Dean puts his hand back on Sam’s dick that’s it.

Sam comes hard, streaks of white covering Dean’s chest. He thrusts back through it, and before he’s finished Dean comes again as well, coating his back, and he feels it drip down over his ass.

Sam collapses onto Dean and hears Dean’s ragged breathing in his ear. “That was awesome,” Dean whispers, and Sam falls asleep with a giant smile on his face and his hands wrapped around Dean’s shoulders.

***

Dean buys them a bottle of champagne with one of his fake IDs when dad isn’t back by New Year’s Eve and they drink it together to celebrate another year. The bubbles go straight to Sam’s head, who’s not used to the alcohol but also drank most of the bottle, and he’s all over Dean.

“I want you to fuck me,” Sam mumbles against Dean’s mouth. “It would be so awesome and then you wouldn’t have to kiss any more girls. You could just kiss me and nobody else.” His hand is also down Dean’s pants and Dean is surprised Sam can manage to keep up a single train of thought.

Well except Dean’s not really too surprised about it because he’s too busy freaking the fuck out.

“Will you do it Dean? Please? I’ll be so good, I promise.” Sam continues to paw at Dean. His hot little mouth isn’t away from Dean’s face for more than a second at a time.

Dean can’t ruin Sam any more than he already has. He just can’t. All Dean has managed to do his entire life is ruin his brother’s. He just got him drunk, for godsakes. He can’t fuck him, he just can’t, no matter how bad he wants to. And he does.

And when he’s fucking some random girl, trying to push away the feelings he has for his little brother, all he can think about is how much he’d rather be with Sam. How he’d rather be kissing his way down a flat chest and running his hand over a hard cock. Once he even tries fucking a guy, but it turns out the gender isn’t the problem and he can’t follow through. The problem is he’s in love with his brother. His beautiful little brother who ought to have a bright future, not a drop-out loser of a brother to contend with.

He tries not to think about it because it’s pointless and makes him feel even more like shit but sometimes simply looking at Sam makes him so fucking sad.

Luckily Dean’s not sure Sam will remember everything they’re discussing in the morning. So he kisses Sam gently on the mouth and tells him no.

“But I wanna, Dean, I want to,” Sam pouts. “I do, I really do.”

“You’re too drunk right now.” Dean does, however, start rubbing Sam’s dick, which is hard pretty much all of the time.

“When the sun comes up?” Sam asks, slurred and moaning at Dean’s touch.

Dean smiles sadly. “Yeah, Sammy. When the sun comes up.” The sun will never shine on the Winchester family. That much is obvious.

“I love you, Dean,” Sam says, and he comes and collapses and Dean’s left holding his sleeping brother with a hard cock and a sad heart.

***

Sam tells Dean from the very beginning that he is going to go to college. He doesn’t tell dad, but he tells Dean before he even applies. So it’s not a surprise at all. Once or twice Sam even suggests that Dean finishes high school and goes to college too, but that’s obviously never going to happen.

But through all the applications Dean helps Sam fill out, all the giant envelopes he collects from Sam’s secret P.O. Box, the thought nags at him from the back of his mind: he’s not enough to keep Sam with their family. Sam cares about him – that much is clearly obvious – but it’s not enough of a reason for him to stay with the family business. Getting out is the one thing he lives for most of all.

Before Sam came to him, asking about college, Dean assumed he was the thing Sam lived for. After all, the reverse was true.

***

Dad is pissed as hell when Sam leaves, because Sam only tells him the night before. There’s a screaming match at volumes to rival rock concerts, which culminates in dad telling Sam to “never bring your fucking face within 100 feet of me again,” and finally ends with Sam storming out of the motel of the week, clutching his dirty duffle (and worldly possessions) in one hand and slamming the door as hard as he can with the other.

Dean goes out after him, partly because it’s midnight and the bus doesn’t come until 6am, but mostly because he promised he would. Dean encouraged Sam to tell dad earlier, but they both knew what did happen would happen, so it’s probably for the best. They agreed to meet at the motel a half mile down the road, across from the bus stop, if dad had a shit storm, so after Sam slams the door shut Dean picks up his jacket and heads for the Impala.

Dad tries to sputter something but Dean cuts his off. “Don’t. Just don’t. I’ll be back in the morning.” Dean shuts the door, leaving dad to cope, (probably by drinking) and drives down the road.

Sam must have run, because he’s already at the motel, standing in the parking lot with a sad smile on his face. Dean steps out of the car and he can hear Sam’s quiet breaths. He’s not sure what to say. They knew this would happen, but Dean has avoided thinking about it, just like everything else in his life.

“I got a room,” Sam finally says, awkwardly holding a key in front of him, and Dean nods curtly, following Sam to door number 13. At another time Dean might be inclined to think of that as a bad omen, but he’s too focused on Sam to give it much though.

They get inside and close the door. Neither one turns the light on. Sam lets his bag fall on the floor and they stare at each other in the moonlight coming from the window. Dean can always read Sam’s face like an open book, and right now it’s switching from doubt to excitement to uneasiness. Then it lands on fright and Sam looks so young. He looks 6 years old again and afraid of the monster in the closet (which wasn’t real, by the way) and Dean’s chest hurts so damn bad.

Sam crumples on the floor, all six plus feet of him, still filling into his body at 18, and Dean joins him. “Sammy,” he whispers, over and over into Sam’s hair, cradling Sam’s head against his chest as Sam cries, whether out of fear of the unknown or sadness at leaving, he doesn’t know. Dean tries to reassure his brother, but he has no clue what to say, so he just holds Sam and tries to ignore the tears falling down his own face.

Dean’s heart is breaking twice over; once for Sam leaving, and another for Sam’s heart not breaking into irreparable pieces along with his own.

They sit on the floor like that, pressed up against one of the beds, for more than an hour, before Dean works up the courage to ask Sam the question that’s been on his mind for months. “Why?”

Sam sits up, eyes red, and turns to face Dean. “What?” he asks, staring at Dean’s mouth.

“Why are you leaving me?” Dean repeats, as soft as possible. He refuses to look into Sam’s eyes because he knows what he’ll see there. But Sam doesn’t say anything, only makes soft sounds, so finally Dean looks up, directly into the green eyes he knows so well, and sees the hurt there.

“You know that’s not why I’m leaving, Dean,” Sam says, and Dean knows, deep down, that Sam is telling the truth, but that’s not what it feels like. “I can’t stay here, with you and dad, making salt rounds and researching jobs…I can’t do it anymore, Dean. I have to get out. I have to go to college.” Sam takes both of Dean’s hands in his own and squeezes them and despite himself tears start falling from his eyes again. “You can still come with me! Could work in a garage or something until you get your GED.”

“You know I can’t do that, Sam.” Sam’s eyes fall again, which makes Dean feel even worse. “And you heard dad, he’ll never want to visit-“

“But you can come, Dean, you don’t have to listen to dad all the time!” Sam is almost hysterical, voice getting higher as he gets more upset. “I don’t want to be without you!”

“You shouldn’t have decided to leave then,” Dean says, bitterly, and Sam visibly stiffens. “This is your fault.” Immediately Dean regrets saying it, but he can’t take it back. It’s true, anyways.

“Well I guess if you can’t wait to get away from me, I won’t hold you back,” Sam practically spits out, and stands up. “Have a nice life.” He stomps to the door and grabs his bag.

Dean is stubborn and won’t say anything, but Sam is more stubborn and his hand is on the doorknob, about to walk out of Dean’s life forever. Suddenly the reality of the situation fully hits Dean and he can’t speak anymore even if he wanted to because he’s openly sobbing, unable to stop the horrible noises coming out of his mouth.

Dean pulls his legs up against his chest and presses his head down on his knees, fully intent on staying like this, weeping and alone, forever, but the door never opens and then Sam is back at his side, wrapping his arms around Dean, and he falls down into Sam’s embrace, allowing his brother to hug him into his chest.

This time Dean is the one crying uncontrollably and Sam is the one trying to calm him down. But Dean won’t let him. He keeps saying he’s sorry, over and over, crying out Sam’s name, and Sam just responds by kissing Dean’s tears, and saying he’s the one who should be sorry, not Dean.

At any other time Dean would have argued back, not content with the state of things, but he can’t fight anymore, not when they only have a few hours left together. And really, what’s the point? He eventually calms down somewhat and responds to Sam’s kisses, repaying them with his own, all along Sam’s neck where he likes it the most. At some point Sam turns to Dean’s mouth, kissing earnestly and deeply, and it’s too much and not enough all at the same time. Dean can’t get over how much this feels like the end of something. He desperately doesn’t want it to be so, but in a few hours it will be reality and he can’t think about that. So he kisses his little brother back, just as he’s done for the last few years, and tries to forget everything except for Sam’s mouth.

They don’t go any further than kissing, by unspoken agreement, because that’s not what this is about. In the days and weeks and months to come Dean will probably regret that the last time they fooled around was behind a motel dumpster, but right now all he wants to do is hold onto Sam and never let go.

It’s the one chance they finally get to share a bed, but they spend the night on the floor. It’s uncomfortable and hurts like hell but is nothing compared to what’s happening between them. They sleep face to face, arms and legs tangled together, with Dean’s head tucked under Sam’s chin.

Dean irrationally hopes Sam won’t get on the bus in the morning, but of course he does. They stand by the door ten minutes before the bus is supposed to leave, hugging each other so tight it hurts and Dean can’t seem to catch his breath. There really isn’t anything to say and Dean doesn’t want to ruin everything again. Besides, they already know everything important.  

But then Sam breaks the silence. “I love you, Dean,” he whispers into Dean’s hair. Dean whimpers and squeezes tighter, kissing Sam’s shoulder, not trusting himself to say anything. A high pitched screech sounds from outside and causes them to let go. Sam looks out the window. “It’s the bus.”

“Sammy,” Dean cries out, unwilling to accept it, and Sam hugs him again. “I love you so fucking much, Sammy,” Dean says, and the tears start falling again. “So much.”

Sam is crying too and he looks helpless, but he lets go. “I have to go, Dean, I…I’m sorry.”

Dean watches, body shaking, as Sam steps out of the room and heads across the street. He turns back a few times, eyes locked on Dean. Dean forces his eyes to stay open, wiping impatiently at the tears so he can see his brother for the last time, but then the thought that Sam won’t be standing next to him in five minutes causes him to make a snap decision and he runs out of the room, calling Sam’s name.

Sam stops a few feet from the bus, and catches Dean as he falls into his arms. Dean kisses him one last time and then breaks away and tries his best to smile for Sam. Silent tears fall from Dean’s eyes and Sam reaches up with his thumb and brushes them away. Dean squeezes his eyes shut tight and takes Sam’s hand in his own.

A voice sounds from the bus, calling impatiently for Sam. Their fingers are tangled together and Dean feels the distance between them start to widen until finally Sam’s fingers fall away and Dean is left clutching at thin air. He waits until he hears the bus start to pull away before opening his eyes and watching it take his brother away.

***

Sometimes Dean thinks about properly fucking Sam. Spreading him out on the mattress and fingering and rimming him until he begs to be fucked. And then finally giving in, surrendering to his brother, and pushing into him and hearing the whines and moans and spreading kisses down his chest.

Every day he regrets not doing it when he had the chance.

Dean misses Sam. He misses Sam so much it hurts like a physical wound, much more than any bone break or cut. His body will heal – it always does. But his heart can’t survive Sam leaving. Dean’s aware of how girly it sounds, but it’s true. It’s a solid fact of nature. No matter what Dean does, no matter how many other people he talks to or has drinks with or fucks around with, he still misses Sam. He will always miss Sam and sooner or later it’s going to kill him. Even eating and drinking and breathing is practically impossible without Sam. Going to sleep and knowing Sam won’t be there in the morning is enough for him to never feel relaxed.

He could go and visit Sam. Hell, he’s tried to half a dozen times. But every time, after carefully navigating the confusing streets of Stanford and finally parking outside Sam’s dorm or apartment, he can’t do it. He’s afraid to see the disregard he knows will be in Sam’s eyes. He’s afraid to see that Sam doesn’t need him as much as he needs Sam. He feels discarded and unwanted and it hurts so fucking much.

Dean drinks a lot.

***

When Dean first goes back to Stanford to get Sam, he doesn’t know how he should act. He thinks about it over and over on the drive – now that he’s absolutely positively going to talk to Sam, not just sit in his car and peek through the window, he has to come up with a plan. He decides that he will just hug Sam, because he won’t be able to stop himself from doing that, he just won’t, and then let Sam take it from there. He doesn’t want to rush the kid. And he doesn’t want to overwhelm him with a snap unwanted decision. Kissing him would probably cause just that and what if Sam said no?

But it’s dark when he finally gets there, and ringing the doorbell seems almost rude, so he picks the lock and walks in. The overwhelming scent of _girl_ hits him – flowery perfume and fruity bath wash, not to mention the faint scent of pussy – and it freaks him out. It’s been at least a year since he’s been here to stalk Sam, and he had no idea Sam was living with a girl. He’s not mad or anything; he’s damn proud, actually, but it’s so unexpected that when Sam is suddenly there his brain flies out and he knocks Sam to the ground. But once Sam is under him, actually there in front of his eyes, it takes all of his will power not to kiss him into the floor. It’s been _years_ (decades, centuries, a lifetime) since he was this close to Sam. But the slight hesitation allows Sam to counteract him and before Dean knows what’s happening, the light is on and Sam’s girl is in the room.

So Dean goes to his fallback – acting like an asshole and joking around. Jess doesn’t like him, but any girl who is worthy of Sam shouldn’t, so that’s fine. It helps him to get through the necessary argument to convince Sam to help find dad. But once they’re in the Impala, driving down the road like it’s any normal hunt, Dean starts to panic. Silently, of course, but his heart beats about a millions times a second and he can’t catch his breath.

After the necessities at the apartment, Sam doesn’t say anything. He’s a silent fucking rock and Dean is afraid to say the first word so the silence lasts for a couple hours. It’s not until the sun is starting to rise that Dean works up the courage to look over at Sam. He’s asleep, which for some reason makes Dean actually lose it. How did he forget what Sam sounds like while he’s sleeping? Dean starts to hyperventilate and he pulls over to the side of the road and jumps out of the car so Sam won’t hear him.

Dean stands there leaning against the Impala with his head in his hands, listening to the cars on the road pass by and tries to calm himself down. Of course Sam hears him. All of a sudden he’s next to Dean with his hand on Dean’s shoulder asking if he’s okay.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean says roughly, trying to push Sam away. He doesn’t need any pity.

Sam won’t have it though, just looks at him with those damn puppy eyes and suddenly Dean’s arms are around Sam’s body. He’s not quite sure who made the first move. All he cares about is that he’s hugging Sam, something he never thought he’d get to do ever again, and he presses his face into Sam’s shoulder.

“Dean,” Sam whispers, almost solemnly, and squeezes tighter. Dean wants to live in this moment forever – wants to laugh and cry and die on this spot - but too soon Sam lets go and they are left staring at each other.

Dean smiles softly, trying to communicate with Sam, but Sam just shakes his head. “I can’t, Dean. I _can’t_.” Dean’s not sure what else he expected – Sam has a life and a beautiful girlfriend and a chance to really truly escape – but he still can’t help but close his eyes to the overwhelming disappointment. “I want to, so bad, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

Dean keeps his eyes squeezed tight, allowing himself to take up the pain for a few seconds, and then he opens them and smiles. “Let’s go find dad, alright? Gotta hurry up and get you back where you belong.” Sam bites his lip but doesn’t say anything, and a minute later they are back driving down the road.

Dean can play the jerk older brother. He can. What he can’t do is play the brokenhearted boyfriend because that’s not who he is. Not anymore.

***

Of course, Sam doesn’t make it back to his perfect life because it burns up on the ceiling along with Jessica. And Dean is left with the broken pieces of his brother. It’s not exactly what he was hoping for.

***

Sam won’t even talk to him for days. He just stares out the window or at the ceiling or at the picture of Jess he keeps in his wallet. At times it’s almost welcome to Dean, because it distracts him from his own overwhelming feelings of a broken heart. In that respect he and Sam are going through the same thing. The Sammy he unwillingly fell in love with all those years ago is gone, just like Jess.

But the weeks pass and Sam inevitably gets over Jessica’s death. Well not over it exactly, but he starts talking to Dean again and Dean doesn’t hear him trying to hold back sobs at night anymore.

They don’t find dad, either. Instead Dean finds himself hunting with his brother. When he was a lot younger he used to think that he and Sam would always hunt together. They would grow up and dad would hunt on his own and he and Sam would hunt together. Reality awakened him to the hilarity of that dream not much after, but lately reality has been a bit unexpected.

It feels good to hunt with Sam again. Despite the whining and complaining Sam did with dad, he is actually a fantastic hunter. He and Dean understand each other without words, and they move a lot more flawlessly than Dean does with dad.

And so the months pass. Dean spends so much time pretending he’s fine that he actually starts to believe it. He hooks up with a few random girls and even tries to get Sam to do the same, but he always refuses.

***

Being with Dean again, especially after what happened with Jessica is almost impossible at first. Sam can’t seem to choke down the old feelings of love and devotion to his brother. He thought that after four years of not seeing Dean, four years of no visits whatsoever that he had gotten over Dean. But it was just hiding, festering into something even bigger, and when he’s suddenly back with Dean all the time… it’s difficult for him. It’s difficult for him to remember why he decided it was a bad idea all those years ago, on the bus ride to Stanford. It’s difficult to remember that Dean refused to come with him, refused to fight him back, and just let him leave.

It’s even harder to remember all the other reasons it shouldn’t be okay too. Like the fact that Dean is his _brother_.

So Sam forces himself to look past Dean, look past his beautiful brother, and only see the asshole that sits next to him in the car and shares a room with him at night. Because after everything Sam’s gone though, he can’t bear the thought of being hurt again. Not by Dean.

***

Then one night after a long hunt Dean once again tries and fails to get Sam to come to the bar with him. “I’m gonna research,” Sam says, waving him off, and so Dean walks down the street and into the first bar he sees. Once he’s in there though, it feels stale. Girls and drinks and scamming guys for pool – all he can think about is Sam sitting in the motel alone, like always. He feels bad that Sam’s always on his own, though not for lack of trying, and suddenly Dean wants nothing more than to watch a stupid movie with Sam and maybe drink a few beers.

Dean leaves, not even finishing his drink, and stops into a liquor store to buy a six-pack. At the last second he buys a bottle of whiskey, too, almost as an afterthought.

Dean expects the room to be locked, but he tries it anyways, and almost falls into the room when the door opens. He’s so surprised that Sam didn’t lock the door that he doesn’t notice his brother at first. But a soft sound comes from the room and he looks up, straight into Sam’s eyes.

Sam’s laid out naked on the bed, fingers wrapped around his cock, other hand somewhere under his back, and his eyes are wide in shock. And then he’s coming, in long streaks over his belly, and Dean can’t help but moan. “Sammy,” he whispers, and on closer inspection Sam is fingering himself.

But as soon as the pulses stop Sam pulls his hands away, face reddened in embarrassment, and sits up. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” he says apologetically, fumbling for his shirt and boxers, hastily wiping the come off his stomach. If Dean had control of his body he would try and stop Sam, but he can’t move, and then Sam is dressed, beautiful body hidden away again.

“You didn’t even wait to get up and lock the door,” Dean says, almost a question but not quite, and Sam bites his lip and looks down.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t think you’d come back so soon,” Sam crosses his hands over his chest, and Dean still can’t seem to move his body.

“Sam, I…”

“Please, Dean, can we just stop talking about it?” The sad puppy eyes are back and Dean has no choice but to let go.

It seems to break the spell and Dean walks further into the room, dropping the alcohol on his bed. “Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks. Sam nods and Dean sighs in relief, toeing off his shoes and sinking down into the bed. Sam sits back down on his own bed, and Dean reaches for the remote, flicking through the channels until he finds something decent, and sits back to watch.

The only sound for a few minutes is the TV but it’s still too quiet in the room. Then Dean remembers the beer and he opens a bottle, drinking almost half in one swallow. He uncaps a bottle for Sam and holds it out to him across the space between their beds. “Thanks,” Sam says, taking the bottle from Dean’s hand, and the edge of his finger brushes Dean’s thumb. Dean looks over, remembering how that hand looked wrapped around Sam’s cock, and he flushes briefly before turning back to the TV.

If Sam doesn’t want to talk about it then Dean won’t bring it up. But it can’t stop him from thinking about it.

All too soon the beer is gone and the elephant in the room has only gotten larger with each bottle. Sam is actually the one who suggests opening the whiskey. There aren’t any cups, of course, so they just pass the bottle back and forth. Once Dean realizes they’re basically one degree away from kissing it’s all he can think about. He catches himself licking the rim of the bottle after getting it back from Sam, imagining he can taste Sam’s mouth.

They pass the bottle back more and more frequently as they continue onto the next movie and Dean realizes suddenly that he’s drunk. But if anything Sam’s had more than him. “You’re getting better at holding your liquor, Sammy,” Dean says, remembering the New Year’s with the champagne. Which makes him think about fucking Sam again, dammit.

The irony is that if Sam asked now, he’d absolutely fuck him. No hesitation.

“College is pretty stressful,” Sam says, apparently rationalizing his ability to drink. Dean snorts. Being in love with your brother is pretty fucking stressful too. Only maybe he actually said that out loud, because Sam stares hard at him for a minute before taking a long drink from the nearly empty bottle.

“Sam,” Dean says, willing Sam to look back at him. Sam doesn’t answer, doesn’t even glance his way. With a supreme effort of will, Dean climbs off his bed and onto Sam’s. Dean grips Sam’s arm and Sam stiffens but doesn’t pull away. “Can’t we ever...” Dean doesn’t even know what he wants to say, doesn’t know how to explain how he feels, but the alcohol fogging his brain helps. “I want things to be how they used to.”

Sam turns sharply and looks at Dean. “You mean following dad’s orders and giving up on me?”

“Fuck, no, Sam,” Dean just doesn’t know how to fucking talk to his brother. After everything they’ve been through, their entire lives, he’s still at a loss. He doesn’t know how to use words to get through to Sam. “Wait, what do you mean giving up on you? You’re the one who left me, man.”

“I wasn’t leaving you, Dean, quit changing things around. I asked you to come with me! You said no!” Sam is angry, yelling, almost slurring his words but he also looks like he’s going to cry.

Dean feels so guilty, almost irrationally so. But they’re having the same stupid argument they had right before Sam left. “Sammy,” Dean pleads. “It’s over! Can’t we forget about that now? Shit man, we could be fucking every single day if we wanted. Does it really matter what happened four years ago?” Dean’s trying to be calm but it’s pretty hard. “We’re never going to get anywhere with that argument, ok? Both too stubborn.” Dean takes a deep breath. Sam stopped trying to argue, is just listening to him, and he continues. “That doesn’t matter anymore. What does matter is you and me. We’re together now. Right?”

“Right,” Sam breathes back, and Dean is too stunned to realize Sam is reaching for him until Sam’s lips are on his and holy mother of god Dean’s missed kissing Sam so much. It’s like breathing air again after being underwater for years and he doesn’t know how he’s survived without it. It makes him want to laugh and cry and scream with joy but all he does is giggle into Sam’s mouth and kiss back just as fervently as Sam.

They fall onto their sides and Dean’s hands are in Sam’s hair. It’s longer than it used to be but it feels so right. He tugs at the strands and Sam moans and tightens his grip on Dean’s back. Their mouths are heavy with the taste of beer and whiskey but Dean doesn’t care because it’s Sam. He’s kissing Sam, after he thought he’d never get to again.

Dean knows he’s mumbling things between kisses and he doesn’t know what exactly, but whatever he’s spouting has Sam all riled up and he presses their hips together roughly. The feel of Sam’s cock against his thigh is almost enough to push him over the edge after all this time. He flips them quickly, instead, so he can thrust down against Sam.

“Dean,” Sam says abruptly, and Dean pauses. “I-“

Dean stops in the middle of a kiss and pushes up to look into Sam’s face. “You okay?”

“No, I, Dean-“ Dean’s not sure what that means, but Sam doesn’t look good. He sits up instinctively, and as he watches, Sam leaps out from under him and runs to the bathroom. A second later he hears Sam retching.

Dean’s own alcohol-full belly clenches in sympathy. “Sammy?” he calls. Sam only groans in return and retches again. “How much did you drink?” Dean asks, getting up and walking into the bathroom. Despite his painfully hard dick, Dean knows now is suddenly not the time and sits on the floor next to Sam and rubs his back. “Are you okay?”

“I haven’t eaten anything in a while,” Sam admits between coughs. He spits into the toilet and flushes the entire mess down.  

“I shouldn’t have given you so much whiskey,” Dean says, frowning.

“Dean!” Sam practically barks out, surprising Dean. “This isn’t your fault! Fuck!” Dean takes his hands away, angry, but then he looks at Sam. His face is so sad that Dean forgets everything but his desire to take care of his little brother.

“Okay, you’re right, Sammy.” Dean stands up and grabs a washcloth from the sink. “I was wrong, you still don’t know how to hold your liquor, huh.” He turns the faucet on and lets the water turn ice cold before soaking the washcloth. “You clearly need more practice.” Dean sits back down and runs the cold washcloth over Sam’s forehead. “You wanna start tomorrow though? Considering?” That at least earns him a smile, albeit a pained one, and Dean lets out a long breath. Maybe he does know how to get through to Sam after all. “You got it all out?” Dean asks, and Sam nods. “You sure? Cause I could hold your hair back, you know, if you want. It is pretty long.”

This time Sam actually laughs. “Jerk.”

Dean suddenly wants to start sobbing right there and he has to push down the feeling. “Can you stand up?” Sam nods but Dean’s not entirely convinced, so he helps pull Sam up from the floor. Sam leans heavily against his body and he tries not to remember his still hard dick. Dean makes Sam drink some water from the sink.

They navigate back to Sam’s bed and he groans as he lies back down. “Fucking whiskey,” he moans and presses his hands to his head. Dean helps him under the covers and after a second of hesitation, turns off the light and climbs in beside him. But he stays on his side of the bed.

The only sound is their breathing and after a minute Dean thinks Sam is asleep. But then Sam shifts next to him. “Maybe this is a sign,” Sam whispers.

There’s just enough light coming from outside that Dean can see Sam’s face. “What do you mean?”

“A sign we shouldn’t do it. Not again.” They both know what Sam means but Dean can’t help but question it.

“What are you talking about, Sam?”

“Dean,” Sam pleads. “We shouldn’t fuck around anymore. Look how upset we got earlier! It’s better if we’re just brothers.”

Dean really doesn’t want to be having this conversation, especially when they’re both drunk. “Go to sleep.”

“But Dean,” Sam says, insistent.

“We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” They’re still facing each other and Sam looks so hurt. Dean leans up and kisses Sam’s forehead before turning on his other side. A few minutes later Sam is snoring lightly but Dean’s still awake. Still thinking about what Sam said.

***

Sam wakes in the morning with a killer headache. But it’s nothing compared to how he feels looking at his sleeping brother at his side. Part of him knows he’s being irrational, but after losing Dean and now losing Jess, he’s too afraid to get hurt again.

Dean is so beautiful though. And he must somehow feel the weight of Sam’s gaze because his eyes open suddenly and Sam is rewarded with their brilliant shade of green.

Once Dean realizes Sam is looking at him he sits up, concerned, and asks Sam if he’s okay.

“Fine. Just, you know. Hung over.” But not nearly as bad as it could be. He sits up and pulls the covers off, moving to get out of bed.

“Wait, Sammy,” Dean says, grabbing his arm. “What about-“

Sam cuts him off. “Bathroom.” Dean reluctantly lets him go and he steps into the small room. It still smells faintly of puke and he realizes suddenly that he never brushed his teeth after last night.

He grabs his toothbrush and brushes frantically at his teeth, thinking about Dean. He’d give anything to have their relationship back to the way it was before. But it can’t be, he knows that, and any further delusions, like how he spent his entire teenage years, will only end in more heartbreak. He can’t take that anymore.

The problem is making Dean understand. Making him understand how difficult it is to be with him constantly and not able to touch and kiss. How much it breaks his heart to see Dean go off with girls at the bar.

Maybe, he thinks, as he spits into the sink, he just needs to say it outright, without allowing Dean to stop him. Maybe then Dean will get it and things can change.

Because every second of their lives right now is stressful. They’re not completely platonic, and they’re not together. They are in this weird limbo state which involves tiptoeing around each other and Sam’s sure he’s going to explode if things stay like this for too much longer.

Sam steps back into the room and Dean is still on the bed. “I just can’t lose you again, Dean,” Sam says quietly, without giving Dean a chance to say anything first. “I can’t give in and then have you leave me or give up on me.”

Dean’s eyes are wide. “Sam, man-“

“Cause I know you will. You can’t stop the girls from flirting with you, you’re fucking gorgeous, and you’ll give in. It’s okay, really, but I can’t just be sitting around waiting for that to happen.” Dean really looks like he wants to say something, but for once he stays silent. “Losing Jessica was awful and terrible and I miss her so much.” Sam sits back on the bed next to Dean. “But it was _nothing_ compared to losing you. I didn’t sleep well for months. I was in danger of failing some of my classes first semester because I couldn’t do my homework without you rubbing my feet or petting my hair or teasing me. Two different teachers recommended I see the school psychologist because I wasn’t acting like a normal 18 year old.” Dean’s expression is unreadable and Sam continues. “A week after I met Jess she asked who’d broken my heart. And I couldn’t very well tell her it was my monster hunting brother, could I? Or tell her about my crazy father who kicked me out because I wanted to be normal? So I told her I was an orphan and my brother was in jail because I knew you weren’t coming back for me ever again.” Sam is vaguely aware that he’s crying, but he can’t stop now. “Trust me, she was just as surprised to see you as I was. She begged me not to go with you. But I did and she died, which is just another thing to add to my list of accomplishments. ‘Got my mother killed in my nursery, made my father give up on me, not worth enough for my brother to want me, allowed my girlfriend to be killed by the demon that haunts me.’” It’s suddenly too much and he stops, putting his face in his hands, and lets the tears stream out.

But of course Dean is Dean, and he pulls Sam into his arms saying his name softly, but Sam doesn’t even feel worthy of that so he slides down and sobs into Dean’s lap. He curls his hands around Dean’s knee and tries to calm down but it’s so hard, even with Dean’s hands caressing his back.

Sam is distantly aware that Dean is crying as well. Why is it that they always end up crying together?

Gradually Sam stops crying but Dean continues to run his hands over Sam and he doesn’t move.

“I barely held it together without you, Sammy,” Dean says, finally, voice cracking slightly. “And dad was pretty bad off for awhile too, you gotta know that. It was hard to tell who drank more. And once,” Dean continues, so softly Sam has to strain to hear him. “I -- well, I promised dad I’d never tell anyone, but…he found me completely drunk in the Impala with a gun pointed to my head. I couldn’t picture your face with a smile anymore and I just -- I honestly don’t if I would have followed through or not if dad hadn’t found me. I mean what kind of life is that?” Sam wants to sit up, look into Dean’s eyes, but he can’t move. “I think dad really realized then how much I needed you. How in love-“ Dean clears his throat. “After that we started hunting separately sometimes. I don’t think he wanted a constant remind of what a screw-up his son was.” Sam says Dean’s name then, but Dean talks right over him. “I think it actually helped me though. You two are more similar than you think. And sure, I slept around sometimes but it didn’t fill the hole in my chest.” Sam finally sits up and Dean lets him, but keeps his hands wrapped around Sam’s wrists. “But Sammy, you gotta believe me, nothing in the world means more to me than you.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?” Sam asks, voice rough.

“Hell yes, but being apart from you again, that scares me more. Knowing that dad might not stop me from killing myself next time.”

Sam can’t wrap his head around that. Dean almost killed himself because of Sam?

“I know I can’t compete with Jessica or anyone you’ll meet in the future and I know I’m not good enough for you and you’ll move on someday, but Sammy, please, you’ve gotta see that I’ll do anything for you.”

That’s enough. “Dean, no! You’re not worthless. You’re the best person I know.” He grips Dean’s arms back. “If you’re worthless than I’m the graveyard dirt that gets stuck in the bottom of your boots.”

“That won’t come out even when you bang it against the wall?” Dean asks, cautiously, and it takes a second for Sam to realize Dean is making a joke. He smiles.

“Yeah. I’m not leaving you, okay? You’re stuck with me.”

“You don’t have to be,” Dean says, small and unsure.

“Dean,” Sam says, taking his brother’s head in his hands. “You said nothing means more to you than me? Well it’s the same for me. Absolutely the same. If you were gone…if you had actually -- I’d probably follow along. And you’re right, it scares the shit out of me, but I can’t run from it anymore. You’re the stars in my sky.”

“And you’re my sun.” Dean grins.

“When did we get trapped in a romance novel?”

Dean just laughs harder and wraps his arms tight around Sam’s neck. Sam puts everything he has into the hug, pours out his love for Dean, and he feels Dean’s love for him radiating back.

“No matter what happens, just know that I love you, okay?” Dean asks and Sam nods.

“I love you, too.” Sam says back. “God, so much.”

This feels like so much more than it was before. They never told each other just how much they needed the other. It was just kind of implied and known but they never discussed it and sometimes Sam doubted Dean’s feelings.  

“Dean?” Sam asks, several long moments later, “Can I kiss you now?”

“God yes,” Dean answers, and before he gets another word out Sam kisses him, soft and sure, and it’s just like the first time all over again, back in that high school hallway, knowing Dean feels the same way about him as he does about Dean.

They fall back down on the bed and continue kissing and Sam can’t stop grinning.

But lying down he realizes that he’s exhausted, and Dean must be too, because his kisses are getting slower and slower. Sam reaches down and pull the covers up over them and they fall asleep like that, lips inches from each other and every other part of their body touching.

***

Sam wakes up hours later, or at least he thinks he does. He’s stuck between dreams and reality, but he hears Dean’s voice cut through, whispering against his ear. “It’s not your fault, Sammy. Not mom or dad or Jess. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

If Sam was actually awake he’d probably protest, but he’s not quite sure he is so he just sighs happily and snuggles in closer to Dean.

***

They sleep through their hang overs and then some. Exhaustion is always part of the hunting life, but sleeping back in each other’s arms allows them to finally relax and give their bodies some much needed rest. And then the morning is a new day, a bright wonderful shining day because Dean’s hand is on Sam’s cock, back where it belongs.

It’s big and strong and exactly everything Sam’s missed for the past four years. But he needs more. “Dean,” Sam gasps out. Dean looks up from his perch on Sam’s chest, mouth attached to his body. “Please, can we finally…” Even now he’s afraid to say it out loud, because what if Dean says no again?

But Dean knows what Sam is talking about and he sits up, moves his hands lower, closer to where Sam’s dick is straining against his boxers. Dean breaths wetly on the fabric, mouth just barely touching, and Sam’s cock jerks, precome dotting the material. “Is this what you want?” Dean asks, voice deep and certain.

“Please, god-“

Dean slips his thumbs into his boxers and tugs slowly, finally releasing Sam’s cock. It strains up towards his belly and fuck Sam needs to come so bad. He’s leaking with the anticipation of Dean’s mouth on him. And then moans when he feels Dean’s mouth on his thighs instead.

Dean’s hands press his legs apart and he feels so open and exposed. “So fucking beautiful,” Dean says, lightly tracing his fingers over Sam’s body before leaning forward and licking a strip down to his hole.

Sam comes before he even realizes what happens, dick untouched, yet spurting out streak after streak. Dean chuckles against his body. “You’re perfect, Sammy.” He moves back up and licks the come right off Sam’s chest and if Sam hadn’t just come he probably would again at the sight.

“Dean,” he barely chokes out before Dean’s mouth, full of Sam’s come, returns to his hole and pushes inside. His tongue licks mercilessly at Sam’s insides and it feels so fucking amazing. Sam feels spit dripping down his ass from Dean’s mouth.

Then suddenly Dean’s mouth is gone but his fingers are there instead, two pushing in together. “Gonna fuck you so good,” Dean says, eyes dark and trained on Sam’s. His fingers fuck Sam effortlessly, slickened from his come. “Been thinking about it for so long.” He reaches down and sucks briefly on the head of Sam’s cock, which is already rising upwards again, curving towards Dean’s touch. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he asks, fingers reaching to rub at Sam’s nipple.

Sam can’t talk, can’t do anything but moan and arch his body further onto Dean’s fingers.

“Ten years,” Dean confesses. “Ever since that first time I saw your pretty little dick shooting off.” Sam tries his best to get Dean’s fingers in further and arches when they hit that spot inside him. “You were so young. It was so wrong, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanted it so bad.” Dean adds a third finger and Sam has no idea how Dean’s not coming right now. “But would I have even fit? Would my big grown up cock have fit in that tiny hole?” Sam’s cock is leaking again and he can’t stop moaning, begging Dean for more. “To tell you the truth,” Dean whispers, still spreading his fingers apart in Sam’s hole, “I don’t know how it’s going to fit now. The rest of you might have grown but that hole’s still pretty small.” Sam is going crazy, grinding down as best he can against Dean’s fingers, hands clenched in the sheets.  “How’s it going to look stuffed full of my cock?”

“Dean!” Sam finally manages to yell out. “Fucking get on with it or I’m going to come again.”

“Yeah you are,” Dean says, cocky grin on his face, the bastard. Sam can’t help it, he reaches for his dick but Dean bats his hand away and grips the base instead. “Not yet,” Dean says. “You’ve never had anyone in here before, have you?”

Sam understands it’s a serious question, more than just the filthy talk coming out of Dean’s mouth. “Just my own fingers. Imagining it’s your cock instead.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, and presses a hand sharply to his pants.

Sam realizes suddenly that Dean is still completely dressed. “Take you clothes off,” he begs, tugging at Dean’s t-shirt. “Wanna feel you.”

“Feel you,” Dean parrots back, and pulls his hand out of Sam. It makes a dirty wet sound and Sam is going crazy with the anticipation. Dean strips out of his clothes. It’s been more than four years since Sam saw Dean’s dick, and it’s just as big and red and beautiful as Sam remembers. He has to suck it, just for a second, and sits up, enveloping his mouth around Dean’s hard slick cock. “Sammy,” Dean moans, throwing his head back.

Sam lays back down and tugs Dean with him, down to his mouth, and they kiss, wet and sloppy and wonderful. Dean’s body is hard as a rock covering his and all that bare skin touching his makes him tingle. “Please, Dean, do it.” He licks the sweat gathering on Dean’s neck.

“Need lube,” Dean says quietly. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Dean,” Sam says, sliding his hand down Dean’s body before slipping into his crack. “I’m good enough. I need to feel you. Know it’s really happening.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean says, simultaneously trying to grind against Sam’s dick with his own and arch up into his fingers. Sam moves his hands to Dean’s hips and gently pushes down and finally Dean gives up and slides his dick down towards Sam’s hole. He’s leaking so bad it leaves a trail of pre-come, which is probably good because no matter how badly Sam wants to feel Dean inside him, right now, he knows from his limited experience (with his own fingers) that an absence of lube is going to hurt, no matter how much come is already shoved up there.

Sam spreads his knees as far apart as he can, hooking one leg around Dean’s arm, and then finally, finally, Dean’s cock presses into him.

Dean slowly pushes in farther, inch by inch, and by the time he’s completely in Sam knows he’s not going to last long. The first thrust makes him cry out and the second makes Dean lean down and capture his mouth. Sam is completely overwhelmed with the sensations of Dean inside him and in his mouth and he grips Dean’s back hard. “So full,” he chokes out and Dean laughs.

“So beautiful, Sammy.” They try to continue kissing but it’s more like face licking and breathing each other’s air, as Dean fucks into him over and over. “Perfect, little brother,” Dean says, gasping and crying out and that thought, that his brother is fucking him hard into the mattress, kissing him and loving him, pushes Sam over the edge and he comes, dick trapped between their thrusting bodies.

Dean cries out when he feels Sam clench around his cock and then chants Sam’s name, again and again, as he pulses out into Sam’s body, filling him up.

Dean collapses on top of Sam and they kiss once more, gasping for air. Dean pulls out, and a trail of come follows, trickling down over their legs.

“Sammy,” Dean says, so full of love and adoration Sam doesn’t know what to do except respond with Dean’s own name. “You know,” he says a few minutes later, as Sam is on the verge of falling asleep again, “I’m almost glad we waited.”

“Yeah?”

“Because if we’d done this before, I never would have been able to stop touching you. Dad would have found out for sure.”

Sam laughs and presses a soft punch to Dean’s head. “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re an idiot too,” Dean replies, grinning. “You’re my idiot.”

That word, _mine_ , makes Sam think that maybe everything will be okay between them now. “You’re mine too.”

“Forever?”

“And always,” Sam agrees.

“And we’re back to the romance novel.”

Sam laughs. “You’re a fucking jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean whispers back, and Sam can’t help but kiss him again.

“So,” Sam asks a few minutes later, when his lips tingle from Dean’s mouth, “Can I fuck you, too?”

Dean smiles and presses a kiss to Sam’s jaw before settling in around his brother. “Sometimes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Parts of the story were originally posted in slightly different form on my [tumblr](http://www.huggingbrothers.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate comments ♥


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